Me and My Shadow
by Mindy35
Summary: Jack/Liz, Jack/Avery. Jack sobers up and realizes what he's been missing out on.


Title: Me and My Shadow

Author: Mindy

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Characters property of Tina Fey, NBC etc.

Spoilers: Up to and including "Live Show"

Pairing: Jack/Liz, Jack/Avery. Mentions of Liz/Others, Jack/Others

Summary: Post-ep. Jack sobers up and realizes what he's been missing out on.

(A/N: Apologies to Conan O'Brien who's the coolest.)

-x-x-x-

He beckoned her closer with both hands. "Come here, Lemon, I need to check that this will fit over your man-shoulders."

Liz wandered toward him on her way back from the bar. "Like you can talk," she muttered as he tugged the wool over her head, "you big-headed- hey, where am I…?" Her head popped out of the woollen neck, her hair dishevelled. "S'okay, I'm back."

Jack frowned, his fingers pinching the wool that only just covered her shoulders. "Hm. I might need to add a little extra width..." He let his hands rest flat on her shoulders, over the wool. "Lemon, are sure you want this in red? It's hardly your best color, you know."

"Yes. Because then when people see us in our matching ponchos, they'll know we're best buds." She socked his arm with her fist. "_Boink_."

Jack raised a doubtful brow. "I know I dropped the ball on your birthday and I am trying to make it up to you, but…that isn't going to happen."

"Really?" She looked down at her half-finished poncho. "No matching ponchos? Not even for the tree-lighting thing downstairs?"

"Not even then." He whipped the thing up over her head again, adding, "And don't pout, Lemon. Thin-lipped forty-year-olds cannot get away with pouting."

Liz shot him a narrow-eyed look, dropping back to the couch. "Just keep knitting, you. You're not entirely forgiven yet."

Jack smirked as he settled back into his corner of the couch. "Have another drink for me then."

Liz immediately leant forward to comply. "Okay."

"Because I need to ask you a few questions."

"What about?"

He slid his glasses on, continuing to knit as they talked. "While I was sober, I realized there are some major gaps in my memory, a few events I'm not too sure of. And since you have shadowed me for the past five years and been privy to most of the details of both my professional and private life, I figure you can clear up any confusion incurred by my perpetually inebriated state."

Liz sat back with her newly filled wineglass. "Sure. Shoot."

"Let's see then…" Jack took a breath, his knitting needles clacking away in the comfortable silence. Eventually, he started with, "Was I a jerk to you when we first met?"

Liz gave a nod. "Yep, yes. You were. Next?"

"To be clear, I'm not apologizing. That is generally the first impression I intend to give new staffers. It's merely a method of asserting my authority."

"Nice work then. You asserted it good."

"Thankyou," he murmured then moved on. "Now…did Tracy try to _kill_ Conan O'Brien? Or is that the booze playing with my brain?"

"Oh no, that happened. More than once actually."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. Conan was…" Liz shook her head slowly, "not happy."

"Conan never is…whiny bitch."

"Ri-ight?" she snorted, eyes twinkling with schadenfreudic delight. "Good luck, TBS."

Jack shot her a glance over the rims of his glasses. "I feel I must apologize for the drunken rampage and subsequent hooker hauling after my divorce though. That was unforgivable behavior so early in our association."

She shrugged a shoulder. "Eh, it was a bonding moment."

"Thankyou for yelling at me. It was just what I needed."

She raised her glass at him. "Anytime. It's what I do best."

"Indeed it is." The knitting dropped to his lap, the glasses came off as Jack's expression waned for a moment. "The, ah…the fireworks fiasco really happened, didn't it? That wasn't a nightmare on my part. Was it?"

"Aw." Liz leaned across to pat his arm, pouting in sympathy. "Don't re-live it, buddy. It was hard enough on you the first time."

He sniffed bravely. "It was rather. Thanks in no small part to you."

"Hey, I tried to tell you. _And_ I apologized. More than once."

Jack cleared his throat, straightening his seat. "Well, anyway. It's water under the bridge now."

"Absolutely. Or…water mixed with Quigley's malt whisky, in your case."

"Don't _say the name_," he hissed, eyes momentarily screwing shut. "It's like hearing the name of a lost lover."

"Oh. Sorry." Liz took a quiet sip of her wine.

"Moving on then..." He let the hand holding his glasses drop along the back of the couch as he shifted to face her. "Tell me, did I actually serve some time in the Bush administration?"

She nodded. "Yeah, you did. Although something happened in DC that you still won't tell me."

"There are certain experiences a man must take to his grave, Lemon."

"Hey, don't ask, don't tell. I get it."

Jack shifted uncomfortably. "Did I also serve some time on a Mexican soap opera of some sort?"

"Oh." Liz looked confused for a moment. "No…no, that was a dude called Hector who just looked like you. Remember? He was the one in all the Sabor de Soledad ads?"

Sudden comprehension dawned in his eyes. "Is _that_ why you were so enamored with those things? Because he was the spokesman and he looked similar to me and you had your thing for me?"

"It really is pointless denying it, isn't it?"

"It is."

"But no," she told him testily. "I was enamored with Sabor de Soledad simply for their awesome flavor. And…_okay_, so there might have been…_one dream_ with your doppelganger involved, but that was only because I was extreeemely-"

"Horny?"

"Ew, no!"

"Lonely? In denial?"

"No, stop guessing things! I was in major cheese curl withdrawal, that's all. Jeez…!" She sighed, her voice growing distant and teary. "Sometimes…late at night…I still miss them…"

"Incidentally," Jack asked, breaking her reverie, "when did your thing for me cease? In my drunken haze, I can't seem to pinpoint when that occurred."

She shrugged a shoulder. "You know I really can't say, Jack."

"I understand."

"You don't, but…whatever."

"Perhaps then you can you tell me when _my_ thing for _you_ ceased? Because I am equally fuzzy on when that might have occurred."

She blinked a few times, eyeing him sideways. "I wasn't aware-"

"You were," he said calmly.

"I…no. I- well. Might have been. A little…aware-"

"I thought so."

"But I still can't answer that question. Either…of those questions."

"Perhaps you can answer this one then."

Liz drew in a breath. "I'll do my best."

"This may sound odd," he began falteringly. "But was I, at any point in the last few years…visited by the ghost of the late, great Janis Joplin?"

"Ah, no," she answered, letting out her breath. "'Fraid not. Just Jenna in a wig. And on lots of drugs."

"Oh." Jack bobbed his head a few times. "Well…good. Strangely disappointing if I'm honest, but probably for the better." He turned his gaze on her, eyes narrowed. "I do seem to recall something about you giving birth to cats though."

"_One_ cat. _And_ it was a _cartoon_."

"How does that make it normal?"

"Duh, it was a _dream,_" she muttered, rolling her eyes. "A dumb, food-induced dream _which_ I should prob'ly not have told you about since you were the cat's baby daddy. But, there I go telling you about it again, so…"

Jack went silent, his lips pursed. "But you're _still_ sticking with the never-had-a-thing-for-me line, are you?"

"Augh. Next question."

"Well, worryingly enough, Lemon, I also recalled a porn movie being produced of your less-than-exemplary sex life. And the two of us being somewhat intimately involved in the making of this project." His lips gave an involuntary twitch of amusement. "But, ah…that can't be correct. Can it?"

"Um…" Liz stalled, her eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. "No. No, that never happened. I don't know where that's coming from. At all..."

"I see. Well, my mistake."

"Yes. It is," she agreed, tipping the rest of her wine into her mouth. "That's what too much alcohol will do to the old noodle there."

Jack nodded. "Indeed. Now…onto more pressing matters." His hands lifted to his head in a cupping gesture, the expression on his face turning to one of grave consternation. "When did I let my hair grow this long? It's not like me to neglect that aspect of my appearance."

Liz shrugged, her eyes lifting to his slicked-back hair. "Like, last year, I guess. I suspect you also started dying it again. Probably because of your high school sweetheart showing up and making you feel your advancing age."

"Right! Nancy…wow." Jack shook his head a moment, seemingly recalling some lost details. "So that whole dating two women at once, that really happened?"

"Oh yeah. That happened."

"That's fairly distasteful behavior, even for me. How did you let me get away with that? Didn't you tell me what a bad idea it was?"

"I tried." She waved a hand at him. "You didn't listen."

"Well, that is the trouble with a near constant intake of alcohol. You start to forget what you can't do. You start to lose track of what you shouldn't under any circumstances try."

"You sure do." Liz took a sip of her wine, remaining silent for an extra moment after she swallowed. "But, hey…at least it all turned out okay. Right?"

"Yes…" Jack's brow creased in thought. "Ah…Lemon?"

"Yes?"

He hesitated, then asked tentatively, "Is Avery as terrifying as I think she is?"

She nodded. "I think so, yeah."

"And exactly how drunk was I when I proposed?"

"You were pretty far gone."

"And where were you, may I ask? Shouldn't you have been saving me from myself? Talking me out of making such a huge decision whilst hammered? Or at least urging me to sober up, sleep on it, think twice? Isn't that what friends do? Especially the overly cautious, overly rational types who like to interfere in other people's decisions?"

"Jack, you were always hammered, I didn't think much of it. As far as I was aware, you made pretty much every decision since you were twelve years old with some measure of alcohol pumping through your veins."

"I'm only just starting to realize this might not be an ideal life choice."

"And anyway," she went on, with a mini roll of her eyes, "if you recall, I had my own three-way situation to deal with. Four-way if you count the Somali pirate who made a pass at me. Or I assume that's what he was doing. I'm not real sure cos he was speaking in French. Either that or he was trying to buy Jenna's hair."

Jack cocked his head. "Wait, what? There were pirates at Floyd's wedding?"

"No, this was Cerie's wedding. Her husband got abducted by them or something."

"…He did?"

"I told you all this, I know I did."

"You did…?"

"Wow. Your memory is completely shot, huh?"

"What did I tell you?" He shifted closer on the couch, tone turning urgent. "Lemon…have you never woken up after a night of incessant drinking not knowing where you are or who you are with or how you ended up naked except for the body glitter matted into your chest hair?"

"Can't say I have actually."

"Have you never been so disorientated the morning after a drinking binge that you hardly even recognize your own reflection? That just looking at yourself in the mirror makes you feel sick to your stomach with mortification and regret?"

"I don't really need alcohol for that. Although, if you replace 'drinking' with 'eating', we are getting warmer."

"Have you never done something whilst drunk that you wish with the strength of a thousand unmerciful suns that you could take back, summarily erase from your history and never, ever repeat?"

"Okay, yes, I kinda know that feeling."

He met her eyes, pinned them with his own. "Well, take that feeling and multiply it by three hundred and sixty-five. Then multiply that by another five or so and you might begin to understand how I felt today."

"Oh brother. No wonder you needed a drink."

Jack nodded once. "And I think I need another one. Right now."

"No. Come on, Jack!" She lurched forward, flinging out a hand to intercept his. "It was just meant to be one. One to take the edge off, one to toast me on my big, important birthday- _which you forgot."_

"Lemon-"

"I know, I know. Letting it go. And look here-!" She lifted the red wool in his lap, wiggling it in the air. "You're replacing the ritual, knitting me my birthday present!…To make up for _totally forgetting_-"

"Lemon!"

"Right. Concentrating on you. And why would you need alcohol when I'm here to distract you anyway? Why don't you watch me get drunk? I'm hilarious drunk. Just, past a certain point, don't let me near any phones. Or matches. Or-"

"You don't understand, Lemon." Jack let out a large breath, expression piteous. "Being completely sober today was like having all my wake-up calls come at once. I saw everything clearly for the first time in who knows how long. And I felt…_caught_…in no-win situation."

"What do you mean?"

"In order to keep the SheBeast at bay-"

"Seriously. Not nice, Jack."

"-I promised to quit my drug of choice, give up my daily stress release, my liquid salvation. Yet…" he gulped, going on in a strained voice, "I _need_ to drink now more than ever. If I am to face the arrival of the child I never intended to create with a woman I barely remember falling in love with, let alone why-" He cut himself off, looked over at her to ask, "Do you know why I did, Lemon?"

She shook her head. "I don't think I can help you there."

He inclined his head toward her, lowering his voice as though fearing someone would overhear. "Tell me the truth, Lemon, the honest truth. I'm about to marry another Bianca, aren't I?"

"The truth?"

He nodded.

"That is what it looks like from the outside."

"That was my fear," he nodded, eyes dropping to the carpet. "I'm not sure I can survive another competitive marriage. I'm utterly exhausted by her already, exhausted by trying to keep her happy, exhausted by trying to stay one step ahead. I'm not as young as I was, my defences are not what they were. And _everyday_, she weakens me a little more, she ages me more, wears me down that little bit more. Eventually…there won't be anything left of me. I'll be a shadow of my former self, Lemon."

"Jack."

"And the only possible way I can see to endure this whole mess is for me to drink as I've always drunk and never, ever stop. Not until the end is in sight. Not until I forget the fact that I don't remember how I ended up here, or why."

"But-" Liz shifted toward him on the couch, momentarily scrambling for words, "Come on…I mean, maybe it'll get better. You know? Maybe this was the worst part. Maybe you'll get used to being sober. Once you dry out completely, you might even like it. You might start remembering all of the good stuff that's happened to you. You might remember why you fell for Avery in the first place and- There's lots of stuff, there's got to be, for you to look back at and be proud of, lots to look back on and make you smile. You don't want to lose all that too. You don't want to forget everything. Right?"

"I don't wish to forget everything, you're right." Jack met her gaze. And for a moment, he just looked at her, silent and smiling. "And I did remember good things, lots of good things. Some I must admit I'd forgotten."

"Well, good. See? It's all coming back to you."

He nodded, eyes steady on her face. "Do you know what was most clear to me, Lemon? What I was most sure of? Do you know what still makes me smile, after all these years? Do you know what _almost_ made the raging hangover worth enduring?"

"What?"

"You. I remembered how much you've done for me. And how much you mean to me. And all the things we've seen each other through. And though I've never expressed it openly or-"

"Written it on a birthday card?"

"It was all there," he told her, voice husky with affection. "That, I'll never forget."

"Except on my birthday."

His teeth clenched all of a sudden. "Like I said, Lemon, I have staff for that kind of thing. How many times must I-?"

Liz was smiling though, smiling at what he'd expressed, smiling at his exasperation. She didn't stop as she began pawing eagerly at her abandoned poncho. "Alright, okay, less of the sentimental crap and more of the knitting of things for me. I wanna be rocking this poncho round the Plaza ASAP! So while you do that-" she shifted to the edge of the couch, "I'm gonna go make a dent in my thousand bucks by ordering us some pizzas. The fancy kind! Because if knitting doesn't fill the void, then eating should. Works for me, every time."

"Lemon." Jack scooted forward also. "Before you do…"

"Yeah?" She turned to him, finding him close.

He drew in a breath. "I…" He leant closer.

She leant back. "No." One hand went to his chest, her eyes wide. "What are you doing? You can't do that, I don't care how sober you are."

"I was just…" He was silent for an overly long time, "I was going to…smell your breath."

"No, you weren't," she said, brows scrunched.

"Then I was going to pull a bunch of flowers out of your mouth. "

"Jack-"

"And I'm not sober," he assured her. "I've had one drink."

"Well, you're not drunk, are you?" She got to her feet, looking down at him with a frown. "If you were, you'd be thinking normally, which quite obviously you're not."

"You're right. I apologize." Jack hung his head, wagged it back and forth. "It's been a very confusing day for me. I'm not sure what I'm doing, what I want. But…please, Lemon, _please-"_ he looked up at her, blue eyes begging, "couldn't I smell your breath? Just once?"

"No!" She turned on her heel, heading for the outer office to use Jonathan's phone, but she doubled back to grab the half-empty wine bottle she'd been partaking of. "Yeah, I'm taking this with me. Because apparently, Sober You can't be trusted."

Jack slumped back against the couch, calling after her. "You're becoming cruel in your old age, Liz Lemon."

Liz leant over the back of the couch, her voice suddenly right by in his ear. "It's called tough love and I learnt it from you." She straightened, giving his shoulder a pat. "You should be proud of me, _mentor_."

Jack twisted in his seat to watch her walk to the other room and dial the phone. There was a bittersweet smile on his face when he murmured to himself, "I'm that too." Then he picked up his wool, put on his glasses and resumed knitting.

_END. _


End file.
